


Sleepy Weekend Mornings

by lokimostly



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: F/M, fluff and lots of it, this is just a blurb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22362751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokimostly/pseuds/lokimostly
Summary: A Thomas Sharpe blurb.
Relationships: Thomas Sharpe/Original Character(s), Thomas Sharpe/Original Female Character(s), Thomas Sharpe/Reader, Thomas Sharpe/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Sleepy Weekend Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> A short blurb written at the request of one of my tumblr followers for our 1k celebration! head to lokimostly.tumblr.com if you want to make a request! <3

You stirred from sleep and inhaled deeply, only to find that there was something– or _someone_ –preventing you from moving. A gentle, sleepy laugh escaped your mouth when you realized the cause of your immobility: Thomas, your husband, whose limbs were utterly entangled in yours.

His head of black curls was snugly tucked in the curve of your shoulder. Each exhale was warm and ticklish against your neck. As delightful as this scene was, the weight of half his body was making it a tad difficult to breathe. Who knew your husband was so _heavy_? 

Your lips curved upward when you poked him in the side and he grunted sleepily against your skin, shifting his position to lie even _more_ on top of you. 

“ _Thomas_!” You cried, pushing against his shoulder and laughing. “Thomas, I’m being crushed-”

“I’m sleeping,” he protested, but you could hear the smile in his voice, and he relented moments later, rolling onto his side to free you from certain death of asphyxiation.

You turned to look at him and smiled at his utterly adorable face, pushing an errant wave of dark hair from his forehead. He hummed against your touch, inhaling deeply. His blue-green eyes opened and flitted over your face, with a tender look of fondness that made your heart squeeze. For someone with features carved from marble and a jawline sharp as glass, Thomas was capable of some of the softest expressions you had ever witnessed.

Your eyes were distracted by movement in the window, and you broke your joint gaze to look past him. A gasp escaped your mouth. “Oh, it’s snowing.”

“Is it?” He asked, turning his head to witness the huge, white flakes descending lazily on the other side of the tinted window panes. The tree branches were covered in a thick layer of snow already: it must have started some time in the night.

Thomas sat up so suddenly that you jumped, watching him toss his legs off the side of the bed and walk around to your side with a decidedly mischievous look.

“What are you doi– _Thomas_!” You gasped, as he swung you up into his arms with a flourish, carrying you (still wrapped in the duvet) bridal-style to the window seat. He sat down carefully with you between his knees, your back to his chest amongst the many throw pillows arranged on the seat.

You laughed, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and looking up at him. He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and running his hand down your arm to intertwine with your fingers. 

“This is a better view,” he explained innocently, and you hummed in agreement, watching him turn his attention to the snowfall outside. You stayed looking up at his face, the way his eyes lit up in childlike fascination, enjoying the security of his arms wrapped around yours.

“Yes,” you agreed, pulling his hand to your lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, nestling deeper against his chest with a contented sigh. “It certainly is.” 


End file.
